


Why Angels Don't Eat at Taco Bell

by Wiccy



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiccy/pseuds/Wiccy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The following hit of crack was dealt out by the comment thread found here: http://bad-rpers-suck.livejournal.com/7823140.html?thread=144908836#t144908836</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Angels Don't Eat at Taco Bell

Castiel eyed the creamy, lumpy white substance in the Styrofoam cup, which Dean had insisted was food, with trepidation. "What is it?"

"It's Coleslaw man. Don't you heavenly jerkwads eat when you're cruising around in your fleshmobiles?"

"We have no need to eat."

"Yeah, but you can right? I mean, it's food. Live a little."

"I suppose." Cas relented. "This looks far too moist to eat with my hands."

"Hold on," Dean said opening a draw and pulling out something thin and silver, "you use one of these."

He placed the item in Castiel's open hand.

"OW!" the angel yelped as the utensil dropped to the ground with a dull, tinny aluminium clank.

Shaking his injured hand he looked down at the offending item, the corner of his lip curled upward in disgust, "I can't use that."

"The hell Cas?! Why not?" Dean asked, annoyed.

"It's a SPOON Dean."

"Yeah, and?"

"ANGELS ARE WEAKENED BY SPOONS! DO YOU WANT THE MINIONS OF HELL TO SPILL FORTH OVER THE EARTH BECAUSE YOU WOULDN'T GIVE ME A FORK?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth several times, looking for all the world like a confused goldfish, as he tried to find the words to adequately express what was going through his head at that moment. Giving up on that hopeless task, he instead shook his head and walked over to the table in order to dig through the fast food bag where the boys stored their collection of drive-thru condiments and plastic utensils. Finding what he'd been searching for he pulled it from the bag and peeled the clear cover off of it.

"Here." he said, tossing it toward Cas.

The Angel, who had directed his attention back to the coleslaw and was jabbing it experimentally with his finger, turned toward the sound of Dean's voice, but didn't get his hand up in time to make the catch. The shaped plastic sailed past his hand and smacked him squarely in the middle of his chest. There was just enough time for the Angel's eyes to widen and his face to go slack before he exploded like an M80 flushed down a toilet.

There were small bits of Jimmy-the-Angel-vessel everywhere. 

Seconds later, with a small pop and the soft sound of fluttering, Gabriel appeared in the room and looked over the resulting mess with a face pinched together on one side and tilted toward his raised shoulder with a stricken look.

"Spork?" he asked Dean without looking away from the mess that once was Castiel.

Tear filled eyes wide and mouth agape, Dean swallowed and nodded wordlessly.

"Oohhh, bummer, no comin' back from that. Even Dad can't fix a sporked Angel. But hey, look on the bright side, at least now you won't have to waste more time looking for a 'sword of Micheal' to kick Lucy's ass with, you got one right there," he turned his face to Dean with a cocky grin and held out a can of soda to him, "Pepsi Max?"


End file.
